Poem (across the north macedonian border)



Wondering if I still look like a quiet
port at midnight or if I am perhaps a little

more dangerous now. The fence, humming his
own tuneless melody and some travelling girl’s

belly full up on vegetables and fish. How much
for a room tonight, can you make beer flow

from the taps? I see the lampshade over
the moon, his cigarette dangling. I do not

understand why they put us on a world that can
not stop turning and expects us to stay so very

still. The children of the village are taking a hot
bath; their shoulder blades wet knowing

mother will be here soon. I cannot reach my own;
damp from the journey, and this is how it gets

being so old and so alone, nothing but a car of
unwritten poetry and sunflower seeds for company.

 

.

Blossom Hibbert
Picture Rupert Loydell

This entry was posted on in homepage and tagged , . Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.